My Harem of Grandmas
by DryadSpeaks
Summary: Written for the Quartie Ficathon!  The prompt was "Artie has a "harem of Grandmas" lol. Elderly female groupies at a nursing home.   elderly couple."  Very fluffy, but also has the potential for tears.  I kind of cried while I was writing parts of it.


**Written for this prompt from the Quinn/Artie Forum:**

_**Artie has a "harem of Grandmas" lol. Elderly female groupies at a nursing home. + elderly couple**_

"How does my hair look?" he asked, as they headed up the walkway at the nursing home they had started volunteering at on the weekends. "Do I look alright?"

Quinn giggled. "You look great. And even if you didn't, your fan club would still think you do."

"They're not my fan club," he muttered. "They're just nice old ladies who like charming young men. Plus, most of them are in wheelchairs too, so we see eye to eye...it's a height thing. That's it."

She laughed. "Right. That's why they squeal with delight when they see you coming."

"They don't 'squeal with delight'" he said, as got to the door. "That's in your head."

She smiled, as they headed down the hallway into the lounge where most of the residents spent their afternoons.

Usually there were about twenty people in the lounge, and Quinn was surprised to see less than half that. They were greeted by one of the women that worked at the nursing home, and promptly got to work, Quinn reading to one of the only men living at the nursing home, Mr. Palmer, and Artie playing cards with two of the ladies.

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They had been there for about fifteen minutes, and Artie was please to see that Quinn had been proven wrong. There were no squeals of delight, or anything like that. He grinned a little at the fact that she thought he had a fan club, as he played the final cards in his hand.

They were about to start a new game of crib, when Mrs. Anderson excused herself, stating that she'd be right back. After she had left, Mrs. Jones, the other person at the table, turned to Artie.

"I just think it's so nice that you and that lovely young lady have started coming here on the weekends," she said, smiling at him. "It's so great to see your smiling faces."

He grinned. "Thank you for having us here," he said. "We both really like coming to visit."

Mrs. Jones was about to respond, when they heard a commotion in the hallway. Artie turned, and saw no less than eight little old ladies entering the room. Mrs. Anderson said something that was just out of his earshot, but judging from the amused expression on Quinn's face, it was about him, and she'd heard it.

"Just had to go get the girls, dear," Mrs. Anderson said, sitting back down at the table. "Can't have anyone missing your visit!"

He grinned sheepishly. "Hi...ladies," he said, waving them. "I think we're going to need more cards..."

Mrs. Jones laughed, a surprisingly loud laugh for such a small lady, and pushed the cards aside. "Child, we're not playing cards. You and your friend there are going to sing for us! The piano is all ready to go."

Artie's eyes traveled to Quinn's, and she smiled. She said something to Mr. Palmer, and then got up and walked over to where Artie was sitting, completely surrounded by his groupies.

He nodded towards the piano, and, realizing that he had little chance of getting closer to it without having to ask someone to move, said, "I think I'll just stay right here. Do we have any requests?"

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After about an hour of singing, several of the nursing home staff brought in snacks for the residents, and Quinn and Artie decided they'd done enough singing for one day.

Artie remained where he'd been seated, surrounded by wheelchairs, walkers, and chairs. Quinn glanced over, and smiled at the animated expression on his face, as he told some story that had everyone's attention captured.

She was straightening up the piano bench, when Mr. Palmer caught her eye and waved her over. Once she made her way over to him, he gestured to the chair opposite him.

"Did you know that Mrs. Palmer and I have been married for over sixty years?" he asked her, putting down the spoon he'd been holding. "The first time I saw her, we were sixteen years old. She was so beautiful."

Quinn smiled, unsure of what she should say.

Mr. Palmer continued. "The last few years have been hard, with the Alzheimer's, and her stroke, you know, but when I look at her, she's still the same, beautiful sixteen year old girl I saw that day. Did you see her face when you and your young man were signing?"

Quinn nodded, unsure if she'd be able to say anything without releasing the tears that were dangerously close to the surface of her eyes.

"That's the look she gets when she's remembering," he went on. "It's been happening less and less over the last couple of years, but still, when I see that face, I know she's with me. I mean, really with me."

"Mr. Palmer," Quinn began quietly, but stopped when it became clear that he wasn't finished.

"When I see you look at your young man, and I see him look at you...it's the same look Mary and I had for each other, all those years ago. And here we are, 64 years later, and I still love her as much as I did back then."

Quinn's heart leapt into her throat. "Mr. Palmer, I don't know what to say," she whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "That was beautiful."

He leaned further forward, his voice becoming even quieter than it had been. "I know you're young, and probably not thinking about the future too much right now, but because I'm an old man I feel like it's my job to say this to you. You and that young man are meant to be together. I can see it in your eyes, and I can see it in the way he looks at you."

She grinned. "I...thank you," she said, unsure of what else to say.

Mr. Palmer grinned back. "Now, get over there, and give him a hand with those ladies," he said. "Young men are few and far-between here, and they get a little excited when one shows up."

She giggled quietly. "Mr. Palmer," she said. "Thank you."

He nodded. "And thank you."

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"You're not jealous of my harem of Grandmas, are you?" he asked, as they got into his car.

She giggled. "Your harem of Grandmas?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, Artie, I'm jealous."

He looked at her, noting the smile spreading across her lips. "Liar."

"I think it's the cutest thing ever," she said, as he started the engine. "Maybe we should start coming here more than once a week." She thought about the conversation she had with Mr. Palmer, trying to figure out whether she should bring it up, and then deciding to keep it to herself. There would be a time in their future where she'd bring it up, but she didn't think that was the right moment for it.

He nodded. "I don't know when we'd have time for that, but I guess I can always make time for my best Grannies."

Laughing, Quinn said, "Don't let your grandma hear you say that."

He chuckled. "She's my best Grandma, they're my best Grannies. There's a difference."

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Suuuure," she said, grinning at him. "If you insist."

He grinned. "I love old people."

She grinned back. "Yeah...me too."

**A/N: QUARTIE FICATHON NOW IN PROGRESS! All the fics that have been posted so far are AMAZING, and anyone reading this should go read them all!**

**Or...better yet...join us and write some! Details can be found in the Quinn/Artie Forum, or you can PM me!**


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